


Morning Meeting

by IndecisiveScribbler



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Awkwardness, Fluff, Locklyle, Nightmares, Oneshot, can't sleep, guilty Lockwood, i have no clue what i'm doing, what even is lucy and lockwood's ship name?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndecisiveScribbler/pseuds/IndecisiveScribbler
Summary: Lucy can't get back to sleep so sneaks downstairs to swing a rapier and get her mind off the nightmares.  Turns out she's not the only one who can't sleep.





	Morning Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> It's literally been almost four years since my last proper posted fanfic, so lets see how this goes.

I flinched, gasping, and sat up straight in bed. Slowly, my eyes took in my surroundings. The familiar worn room at Portland Row enveloped me in a wave of humidity. I pulled the duvet up to my chest, wishing for cooler air, yet unwilling to subject my limbs to the unknown night. 

An obnoxious yawn broke the silence. " _ Having a little bad dream are we? _ " The skull asked. 

"Oh shut up," I mumbled back, getting out of bed. A quick glance at my watch on the bedside table told me it was seven in the morning. I had been sleeping for only four hours. 

My muscles screamed in protest at my stretching, but I ignored my aches and pains and bruises and changed quickly into some comfortable clothes. No one else would be awake yet. No use disturbing them with my early morning wandering. 

I crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaks and groans that inhabited them. Allowing myself a little sigh of relief once I had gotten past Lockwood's room (I didn't have to worry about George, he was snoring too loud), I continued along before pausing at the entrance to the training room.  Sounds came from within. The quick sweeping of a rapier along with slightly labored breathing. Scuffling footsteps, then repeated sounds of motion. Someone was down here practicing already.  I miraculously made my way to the doorway without a sound. It was Lockwood. 

His face was different than I had ever seen before. A kind of openness I had only ever glimpsed and guessed at. His eyes serious and painful, and his mouth twisted into a sarcastic grin-like scowl. He was repeating the same couple rapier formations over and over. Complicated ones, it seemed almost of his own invention. He was having trouble with a certain movement, and each time through as he would mess it up, he would deepen his scowl and try again. He hadn't heard or seen me yet. 

I found myself letting my eyes trace along his movement. A foot forward, a leg stretched back. Arm and shoulder connected as one, leading to neck and head and that one piece of hair that refused to stay in place no matter how many times he swept it back. His shirt would cling tightly and then loosen in parallel with the muscles beneath. A twist a lunge, then a full stop and grunt of frustration. After about four repetitions, I decided I had stalked creepily for long enough. 

"Morning," I said, cautiously, removing myself from my position leaning in the doorway, and making my way in. 

Lockwood half jumped in surprise, twisted, and I suddenly had a rapier inches away from my nose. "Lucy?" He said as if coming from a daze. His face took a softer look, and he dropped the weapon's tip. "Sorry... how long were you there?"

"Oh not that long," I said nonchalantly, grabbing a rapier for myself. I avoided his eyes. 

"Trouble sleeping?" Concern dripped in his voice. 

"You're one to talk," I replied. He dropped his head slightly, and I could swear I saw a flush on his usually charismatically confident face. 

In the silence that followed, I positioned myself in front of our ghost dummy, Floating Joe. WHACK WHACK! I slashed it violently. Fear and nightmares and all went into my hits. Better to get it out of my head than to dwell on the haunting images of my subconscious. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Lockwood returning to his motions. To say that I was completely focused on what I was doing was a lie. I tried to keep my head on my sword, but I kept finding my eyes drawn back to the boy next to me.  Even though he was a bit more subdued than before - he had an audience now - he had the same distressed look about him. I started to feel worry brewing in my chest. 

"Hey, is something... bothering you?" I found myself stuttering out, eyes focused on the dummy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lockwood fumble with his rapier. 

"Why do you ask?" He feigned his usual nonchalance and charisma, but it failed. How many of his other moments of charm had been covers for his unstable emotions below the surface?

"Well," I paused, stabbing the dummy with a grunt, "you're not just down here at the butt crack of dawn for the fun of it."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Caution ringed his voice. 

"Come off it, I've seen your face. What's wrong?"  I turned to him, letting down my rapier and giving him my full attention. 

His scowl deepened, but I think it was more at himself than at me. "It's nothing to worry about, Lucy. I'm alright." He turned and went back to the motions.  I crossed my arms. Alright Mr. Repress-my-emotions. You're gonna play that game. 

"You don't look alright. You look pissed."

"Probably because I am," I barely heard him mumble under his breath. 

"What was that?"

"Nothing." A twist, a mistake, frustration dancing on his features. He stopped and with a dejected sigh of defeat, put his rapier down. 

"Lockwood, come on. I've known you for a while now. Don't insult me by thinking I can't tell when something's the matter." I took a step closer to him. 

He looked to contemplate something for a moment, then with a slight nod, looked back at me. "Maybe... maybe something is a bit off." He quietly admitted. He smiled, but instead of his usual dazzling smile of charm, I got the half unsure smile of fear. 

"Wanna talk about it?" I walked on the cautious side. 

"No," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But I suppose I must eventually."  He sat down, cross-legged on the floor. I followed suit. 

I half imagined what the skull would say about this. Something along the lines of, " _ ugh, early morning feeling session? Now that's a new low. You and little lover boy need to get a room . _ "

Wow, you knew I was spending too much time with that thing when I started imagining its speech when it wasn't present. 

Lockwood absentmindedly traced patterns on the ground with his finger. His eyes darted around everywhere but mine. "Sorry," he half spoke, half whispered, "this is hard."

I nodded. "It's alright."  But you're starting to worry me more, I added in my head. 

He sighed and began speaking. "Ever since... ever since Jessica... I've had trouble. With... emotions."  He shifted, fidgeting his feet and pushing back his hair. 

I sat listening, it was what I was good at. Perhaps not just with supernatural things. 

"And, well, recently... it's gotten a bit worse," he continued. "I can't... no... it's hard... With the visitors, I find it... difficult? Difficult. I've found it difficult to keep my head straight." He got quieter, body language retreating in on himself. He had forsaken his leader mask. Now he was just Anthony Lockwood. Not the leader of an agency, not a contender with the likes of Rotwell and Fittes. Just Lockwood, an agent who was feeling the effects of the visitors a little bit too much. 

"Like how?" I asked gently.

He shook his head. "You know what, never mind." He shot a grin up at me. "It doesn't matter." He made to stand up, but I reached over and placed my hand on his shoulder. 

"Oh no you don't," I said, and he surprisingly sat back down without a struggle. "How's your head not straight?"

"It's gay"

I stared at him blankly for a second, then retreated my hand. I was slightly disappointed, though I don't know why. It's not like I fancied him or anything. No. Nope. Not at all. 

"I'm just joking, Luce." He said gently, with a grin. I returned the expression and slapped him on the shoulder. 

"I'm trying to be serious here!"

"Sorry, perfect opportunity. Couldn't miss it." He shifted awkwardly. "But on the serious note," he continued, "thoughts are betraying me.  I can't seem to stop thinking about all the mistakes I make, and how you and George and Holly keep getting hurt because of me."  He rubbed his face with his hands, successfully hiding its expression from me.  "I can't help but think you'd all be better off without me." A shuddering breath.

"Is that why you keep throwing yourself into danger?" I returned my hand to his shoulder, trying not to think too deeply into his words. If I was worried before, I was even more so now.

Silence. I faintly picked up on a barely perceptible nod. I might have imagined it. 

"Lockwood, it isn't your fault," I started. "We're agents. It's our lifestyle. We're always going to be in-"

"You don't get it Lucy!" he cried out suddenly, yet quietly. "I know it's not my fault! I know it. I know I'm stupid for thinking all this. I know it's not true. But I can't stop it and I'm always so worried that something's going to happen. I'm going half mad, Lucy! Every time I close my eyes I see you and George and Holly and everyone in danger or dying because of me." He paused. "Especially you," he whispered almost imperceptibly. 

My heart did a funny little flip, but it was matched with a sinking feeling in the rest of my body. Especially me. 

"The ghosts feed off of this kind of stuff, you know." His voice took a grim cadence to it. "The more I worry, the greater the possibility of my worries coming true. And that makes it even more my fault." He still had his head in his hands, hiding it from me. 

We sat in silence a moment. I kept my hand resting on his arm, unconsciously rubbing circles with my thumb on his bare skin. I didn't quite know how to respond. Lockwood, strong and steady, was perhaps even more broken inside as I thought. He too worried about having others hurt at his expense. 

I felt Lockwood give a deep breath, composing himself. "I'm sorry, Lucy," he said, looking up from behind his bangs. "You didn't need to listen to me ramble." He glued a grin to his face. 

"I don't mind," I said quietly. My voice had a dull raspy sound. I awkwardly cleared my throat. "Everyone deserves some rambling time." I looked away, my face growing warm. Stupid emotion and stupid timing.

We let the early morning silence calmly envelop us for a moment, lost in our own thoughts. After a while, I was shaken from my mindless staring by a casual bump on my shoulder by Lockwood. 

"Alright, Luce, I've spoken. Your turn. What's got you up so early? It's sure not just to be sat on the training room floor with me to have a depressing ramble." I looked over to him and noticed a teasing grin on his face, which my face soon matched. 

"It's nothing really," I said, feeling an urge to push his hair back from his forehead. I took a breath, clenched my hand, and looked down in my lap. 

"Liar," he whispered, bumping my shoulder again. 

I thought back to earlier, to the images in my mind that had made it impossible to close my eyes again. An involuntary shudder ran down my back, and I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "Just some nightmares," I quietly admitted. 

Nothing needed to be said on his part. We all had spouts of nightmares, it was just part of the job description. He placed his hand gently on my back, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. My heart went into overdrive, and my brain went blank. It was equal parts pleasant and mortifying. What if he noticed? Would he think I fancied him? Not that I do. No. I am most certainly not falling for Anthony Lockwood. 

He scooted a bit closer to me and put his arm all the way around my shoulders. I let my head fall onto his shoulder, and he let his lay on top of mine. We sat in silence, listening to each others breathing and watching the dreadful figure of Floating Joe sway casually on its rope.

 

Someone behind us cleared their throat pointedly. 

With more quickness than either of us had ever displayed, even when dodging the whipping ectoplasm strands of a visitor, we shot to our feet and put a respectable space between us, as if the person hadn't already seen us in such an incriminating pose. 

Said person being George, who I glanced up at long enough to see his eyebrow raised in a sarcastic questioning expression before shifting my gaze away from him, and especially Lockwood, to stare at the floor and allow my face to burn. 

"Morning," George said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Having a cheeky practice session are we?" The implications of his tone made my face heat more. My eyes unintentionally drifted to Lockwood's, and I saw that his face was as red as I've seen it yet. He scratched at his nose before averting his gaze to George. 

"T-" his voice cracked. "Tea, anyone? I'll put on a kettle." He bustled out of the room, awkwardness radiating off of him as he snuck past George as fast as possible. 

"And he didn't even ask your parents permission," George shook his head in mock horror and my face heated more. If I was any more embarrassed, I think it would explode. 

"Tea's wonderful," I said, ignoring the laughing George. I followed Lockwood's lead and quickly brushed past George and met Lockwood in the kitchen.  Luckily, after an awkward eye contact, quick break of eye contact, and a mindful attempt to ignore each other, Holly and Kipps chose to arrive, saving our embarrassment a bit. 

We all settled down at the table, and I had just finally put the morning's events behind me (no I was not still thinking about the feel of Lockwood's hand, or the smell of his hair. Most definitely not about how he looked flustered. Nope. Not at all.) when George casually broke the silence. "So you would not believe where I caught Lucy and Lockwood this morning," he said around a slice of toast. Kipps and Holly quickly turned their eyes between him, Lockwood and me for a moment. 

"Oh?" Holly sounded intrigued. 

"I'll just clean this up then," Lockwood quickly stood up, tripping on his chair leg and bumping the table, sending the plates rattling. He bustled around, grabbing plates as I stood as well. 

"I've got... things to do. In my room. Skull things. Yes. Alone room skull things." I turned without a second glance and dashed up the stairs as fast as I could without looking suspicious. I could hear the faint whispers of laughter coming from the kitchen, and my face reddened. I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed the door to my room behind me, leaning against it. 

" _ You're as red as a murderer fresh home from a night of fun on the town. Did Locky-boy finally smog you or something? _ " I jumped in surprise at the skulls voice. 

"Shut up!" My voice came out much higher than I had intended. 

" _ He did, didn't he! Oh, wait until I spread the news! _ "

"We didn't kiss!" My voice came out shrill. "And you don't have any friends to spread it with. So there." I quickly shut the vent, cutting his singing of Lockwood and I sitting in a tree. It was reduced to simply making rude kissing facial expressions through the glass.  I sighed and let myself fall onto my bed, dejected.

Lockwood and I never spoke again of our morning meeting. The others would occasionally make pointed remarks about it, but it would usually result in the two of us awkwardly ignoring each other and leaving the room as soon as possible. 

But I knew for certain, now, that every time I had a nightmare and awoke too early in the morning, Lockwood would always be down in the training room, slashing away with his rapier. And if he wasn't there, he would join me quick enough. We could comfort each other without a word, healing minds without the complications of speaking. 

 

 

And if one or two of the morning sessions might have ended in a kiss, no one was any the wiser. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Congrats, you reached the end of that mess. Thanks for reading! :3  
> Leave a comment and Kudos to make my day.


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